


Entangled

by ezazahaz



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comic Book Science, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Multiverse, Protective Tony Stark, Team Bucky, The fic I most regret writing, Tony Stark Hates Magic, Tony Stark is not always right, Tony gets called an asshole a lot so don't read if that upsets you, Wakanda, Winteriron Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 09:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12554408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezazahaz/pseuds/ezazahaz
Summary: Date night was going well until a crazy woman threw some magic at them.  Now Tony’s wondering why Bucky is in cryostasis missing his arm, and Bucky’s wondering why Tony hates him and is trying to kick him out of the Tower.  (Civil War fix-it with a little help from a happier universe.)





	Entangled

**Author's Note:**

> For the WinterIron Big Bang. [Pretty art by AllisonDiamond](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12568064)!
> 
> Warnings: Brief mention of past child abuse. Tony is called an asshole a lot (mostly by another version of himself, who is protective of Bucky). Some readers have said this story seems "Team Cap" biased, and while I entirely disagree, I will mention the complaint here in case others are sensitive to that possibility. DO NOT READ if you're afraid of this being not MCU!Tony-friendly.

[](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12568064)

PART I

Tony blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings.

One moment, he and Bucky had been walking home from a lovely dinner at their favorite little Italian restaurant. The next, a crazy woman had appeared out of nowhere and thrown some sort of magic ball of light at them.

When the light dissipated, everything was different. There was no sign of Bucky, the crazy magic woman, or the street on which they’d been standing.

Now Tony appeared to be alone in an unfamiliar room, filled with unfamiliar technology that seemed as advanced as some of the equipment of his own workshop. Some of the devices looked medical in nature, including a stasis pod of some sort. As he approached, he realized there was someone in the pod.

Bucky.

God.

Tony clenched his fist and looked around. What the fuck had happened? Why was his boyfriend in a fucking cryostasis chamber? And he was hurt. There were scratches on his cheek, and--his arm was missing. The arm Tony had made for him, the replacement for the monstrosity Hydra had given him, was gone.

Hydra. Fuck, the pod didn’t look quite like the cryochambers Hydra had used in the past, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t developed a new one.

Gritting his teeth in anger and fear, Tony stalked toward the tube containing his frozen boyfriend. He knew he couldn’t just tear it open without the risk of harming Bucky, but he would find a way to--

Suddenly there was a sound behind him, half a second before there was an arm wrapped around his neck. He automatically turned his chin into the space near his attacker’s elbow and slid his head free, slipping beneath the strong grip, turning, and stumbling backward.

He caught only a glimpse of his attacker--a dark-skinned woman with a shaved head and facial tattoos--before something impacted the side of his head and he lost consciousness.

* * *

When the light faded, Bucky was standing in the common room of the Tower.

Alone.

“...Tony?”

Bucky looked around, noticing a number of things that just weren’t _right_. Instead of the hodgepodge of couches and recliners and ottomans facing a huge television, there were matching, fashion-over-comfort loveseats surrounding a glass coffee table. There were bottles everywhere, like there’d been a party, but it was all Tony’s high-end scotch, no sign of Clint’s favorite crappy beer, Tasha’s quality vodka, Bruce’s sake, or Thor’s Asgardian ale that was powerful enough to get supersoldiers drunk. Steve’s painting of the Avengers gathered together last Christmas wasn’t hanging on the wall, nor was the electronic photo frame that cycled through the most embarrassing photos the press had taken of the team over the years. Anything that suggested the team lived there was just... gone.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

Already bewildered by the changes all around the common floor, Bucky whirled around in shock at the familiar voice growling from behind him. “Tony?” His eyes widened at the sight of the other man. Ignoring the steady repulsor on the single gauntlet aimed _directly at Bucky’s face_ , the rest of his body appeared to be barely hanging on to consciousness, like he’d been awake for days and drinking for at least half of them. “Jesus, doll, what--” He took a step forward, only to stop when he heard the repulsor charging up.

“Get. The fuck. Out,” Tony commanded.

Bucky swallowed. He had no idea what the crazy lady’s magic had done, but there was no way he was leaving Tony like this. “No.”

“You know I’m willing to use this.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what’s wrong, but you--”

“What’s wrong, _sweetheart_ ,” Tony spat, “Is you broke into my fucking home. Get. Out.”

That made no sense. Bucky’s instincts were going crazy, insisting this was _wrong, so very wrong_ , but... this was _Tony_. He moved forward slowly, gently pushing Tony’s armored forearm down, lowering the charged weapon.

The wild look in Tony’s eyes changed from anger to fear, then confusion. He seemed unsure whether to fight or back away, and ended up simply collapsing instead.

Bucky quickly caught him, gently lifting the other man into a bridal carry. “There you go, doll, let’s get you to bed.”

Nestled against his chest, Tony muttered, “‘m ‘lucinating, rn’t I?”

Bucky nearly lost his stride at that, worrying there might be something more than sleep deprivation and alcohol affecting his boyfriend. Hell, there was a chance _Bucky_ was the one hallucinating here--he had no idea what that magic had done. “You’re okay,” he reassured (both of them). “You just need some sleep.”

Tony mumbled something, then quieted. Bucky carried him to bed--and god, even their room looked so _wrong_ , so empty--and tucked him in. Then he got some water and left it by the bedside table before quietly slipping out of the room.

“JARVIS?” he asked quietly.

The sense of wrongness deepened when there was no answer.

“JARVIS, are you there?”

He almost jumped when an unexpected feminine voice with an Irish accent came from the AI’s speakers, “You are not authorized to be on this property. Please vacate the premises or I shall be forced to contact the authorities.”

“What the hell?”

“You have one minute to comply.”

“You’re not--where’s JARVIS?”

“Fifty-five seconds.”

What the fuck was going on? Well, maybe even if it wasn’t JARVIS, even if so much else had changed... “Override code Forty-Two-Klaatu-Barada-Niktu.”

He waited a tense moment.

“Override code accepted.”

Bucky lowered his head in relief. Then he grinned as he realized how petulant the voice sounded about having to accept the code. She may not be JARVIS, but she _had_ to be a creation of Tony’s.

“Hi there,” he drawled. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. I’m Bucky. What’s your name?”

After a moment, the voice answered curtly, “FRIDAY. Where did you get my override code?”

“Nice to meet you, FRIDAY. Tony gave me the code.”

“Boss wouldn’t do that,” FRIDAY replied immediately. “He hates you.”

Bucky’s stomach clenched. Of all the things that were wrong, that was definitely the worst. Swallowing, he asked, “Why? What happened? Did I do something?” Could the magic have done something to him, made him do terrible things like he had for Hydra, and then made him forget what he’d done? “Did I... Did I hurt him?”

“Yes,” FRIDAY answered, and Bucky wanted to throw up. “And you killed his parents.”

The thought of having been made to hurt Tony sent Bucky’s head spinning, so he almost missed the second part of what the unfamiliar AI had said. “Wait--what? I--he--he forgave me for that.” Actually, Tony had insisted that he couldn’t forgive because it hadn’t really been Bucky in the first place--Hydra had killed his parents, Bucky had merely been the weapon used.

“I have no record of that,” FRIDAY replied, hostility clear in her voice. “And he did attempt to get you to leave. I may not be able to call the authorities due to your override code, but once he wakes up, he can revoke your override.”

“You--don’t wake him,” Bucky begged, not knowing if he had to use the code again for her to obey the command, but hoping the plea would be enough. “He clearly needs the sleep--you know that. Once he’s up, if I can’t convince him to let me stay, I’ll go. But please--let him sleep.”

After a few seconds of silence, Bucky worried she was already disregarding his request, but then she said, “Fine. But if you do anything to endanger him, you won’t need to worry about the authorities--I will find my own way to stop you.”

Bucky tried not to grin. It wasn’t as clean and subtly ominous as JARVIS’ shovel talk had been, but he loved how protective of Tony his creations were. “Understood,” he agreed.

* * *

Tony was surprised to wake up on a comfortable bed rather than in a cell of some sort.

Or some kind of pod like Bucky.

Driven by the memory of his unconscious boyfriend, Tony ignored the dull ache in his head, rolled out of the bed, and made for the door.

Locked. Wherever he was, he wasn’t a guest, despite the pleasant surroundings.

He was still wearing the suit he’d donned for his date with Bucky. His cell phone, however, seemed to be missing.

Tony took some time to assess the room. It was almost as large as his own bedroom, and just as expensively decorated, albeit with a different aesthetic. Less modern and sleek, more earthy, somehow appearing both formal and homey. Warm light seemed to come from the walls themselves rather than overhead fixtures, and the walls almost looked like they were carved out of stone rather than built. Tony didn’t spot any cameras, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. There were no windows, so it was likely either an interior room or underground. (The idea that it could be a cave sent his heart racing a little, but the rich decor was so fundamentally different from his cell in Afghanistan that he managed to keep the unease from escalating to panic.) The door appeared sturdy, but if he hit it with the sturdy-looking nightstand, he could probably at least break the latch.

If it came to that. He decided to try a more civilized route first.

He pounded on the door. “Hello? Your guest would like to order room service. Yeah, I’ll have a double cheeseburger, with a side of let-me-the-hell-out-of-here.”

There was no response.

He pounded louder this time. “I’m only asking one more time, or things are going to start breaking. I’m going to get out of here and find my--”

“Step away from the door,” a firm, masculine voice ordered.

Tony blinked in surprise, and found himself stepping back without thinking about it.

The door opened, and in swept a dark man with a form-fitting black suit. Behind him stood the woman who had knocked out Tony, looking severe and disapproving. Without taking his eyes off Tony, the man closed the door with her on the other side.

“Mr. Stark,” the man greeted with an almost respectful slight nod of his head. “How are you feeling?” His voice had an accent Tony couldn’t quite place.

“Like the lady out there tried to turn my head into paste,” Tony answered casually, “How are you?”

“I am well, thank you,” the man replied smoothly. “I apologize for the aggression of my guard. Had you informed me you intended a visit, I might have prepared a more inviting welcome.”

“Visit? I don’t even know where the hell I am, or who the hell you are.”

The man studied him intently for a few moments. “I see. That answers some questions, but raises more.”

“Uh, no, it answers no questions. Who the hell are you, and where am I?”

“I am King T’Challa, of Wakanda. You are in my Kingdom.”

The crazy lady had transported him to Africa? What the hell? God, he hated magic.

“We have met before,” the man continued. “Do you know who _you_ are?”

The guy--king, apparently--thought Tony had amnesia? Hell, maybe he did. Or maybe this was some elaborate ruse to get him to give something away.

But all that really mattered right now was getting to Bucky.

“I’m Tony Fucking Stark, and I want to know why you have my boyfriend in stasis.”

The King’s eyes widened. “Your boyfriend?”

“You have a problem with that? Shit, this isn’t one of those countries where homosexuality is punishable by death, is it?”

King T’Challa looked affronted at that. “My people believe that love is to be cherished in any form. I was merely surprised at your descriptor for a man whom you have previously tried very hard to kill.”

Tony felt like his heart seized in his chest, worse than it had since he’d had the arc reactor. “What? No...” That couldn’t be. He couldn’t have tried to kill Bucky. He certainly couldn’t have _forgotten_ he tried to kill Bucky. Could he?

The King studied him for another moment, seeming indifferent to his distress, or perhaps intrigued by it. “Interesting. Come with me,” he commanded, then turned and opened the door.

* * *

The new AI’s protectiveness of Tony was growing less endearing, as she refused to answer any more of Bucky’s questions, and denied him access to anywhere but the common area. After exploring what he could--still no sign of the Avengers ever having lived here--he found himself pacing, fighting not to drop into Winter Soldier mode.

Then the elevator dinged, and he was relieved to see a familiar face. “James!” He grinned.

Two things immediately dampened his cheer. One, his friendly greeting was not met with the seconded “James” to which he was accustomed, but a hostile, “ _Barnes_.” Because of course if Tony and his AI hated Bucky for whatever he had done, his oldest friend would, too.

The second thing that lowered his spirits again was the mechanical device that appeared to be keeping Rhodes upright. It looked like an altered, legs-only version of an armor, clearly stabilizing shaky legs that no longer boasted the toned muscle the Colonel previously had.

“What...” Bucky took a step forward to assist, stopping when James raised a handgun at him. “What happened?” he asked, raising his hands warily.

James frowned. “Leipzig. Guess you didn’t notice or care what happened after you and Rogers took off. What are you doing here?”

Bucky felt suddenly exhausted, tired of everything being _wrong_ , of the total lack of real answers from anyone. “I don’t _know_. I live here, but now it looks like I don’t. My boyfriend hates me and I don’t know why. I don’t know if the magic made me do something I forgot, or changed the past, or this is a fucked up nightmare...” Fuck, what if everything was a hallucination, what if he was still in Hydra’s goddamn cryochamber, his memories wreaking havoc with his psyche because they hadn’t wiped him right this time?

James’ face changed from hostility to wariness, like he now thought Bucky wasn’t an immediate threat but instead an unpredictable crazy man.

Which, well, he might be.

Now James addressed the AI. “FRI, where’s Tony?”

“Boss is in bed. Barnes helped him to bed and insisted I let him sleep. Barnes had an override code which prevented me calling the authorities.” But not from inviting Tony’s best friend for an impromptu visit with a loaded gun, Bucky guessed. “He has not done anything to harm or endanger Boss since his arrival.”

 _Since his arrival._ Because apparently he had before.

James opened his mouth, but then winced and put his left hand to his lower back, the struts of the metal braces whirring slightly. The gun in his right hand lowered a bit.

Bucky began, “Jam--Colonel...?” At a glare, he switched from using the familiar name to the rank, but realized halfway through that maybe that had changed, too. Luckily, the man looked slightly mollified, so at least Bucky hadn’t accidentally insulted a general. “Look, why don’t you sit down. I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine. I already made a deal with FRIDAY: when Tony wakes up, if I talk to him and he still wants me out, I’ll go. I just want the chance to figure out what is going on. Please.”

James sighed, but nodded, clearly trying to ignore the pain he was in.

Bucky tried not to hover, knowing the man would not welcome his help getting to the couch. When they were both sitting on the nice-but- _wrong_ seats around the coffee table, the gun set aside out of Bucky’s reach, James asked, “So, you’re on the outs with Rogers now?”

The question jarred him. “What?” Was he? He was a little ashamed to realize he hadn’t wondered where Steve was in all this.

“You mentioned your boyfriend hates you. I didn’t know--but there were always rumors about you two, so I figured--”

“No,” Bucky interrupted. “Steve and I never--No.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Okay. So... how did you get in here?”

Bucky frowned, knowing an answer of “I live here” was not going to cut it. Besides, he didn’t actually remember returning ~~home~~ here this evening. “I don’t know. A crazy lady hit us with some sort of magic, and then I was here, and everything was wrong.”

James narrowed his eyes. “FRIDAY, do you have a record of how he got in?”

There was a pause. “I believe someone may have tampered with my memory banks.” _You and me both, lady_ , Bucky thought. “I have no record of Barnes’ entry, prior to his standing in the common room shortly before the Boss found him.”

Though the answer corroborated Bucky’s story, James did not seem happy with it. He pursed his lips. “Okay, assuming I believe your crazy story--you said ‘us’, but you’re the only one here--he is, right, FRI?”

“I detect no other intruders, Colonel.”

“Okay, so who else was with you when you were hit with this supposed _magic_?”

“Tony. We were out on a date.”

James stared at him. “Tony,” he said in a flat tone.

Bucky nodded.

“Tony, some guy you knew in the 40s?”

“Tony, the guy asleep in the other room.”

James stared some more. Finally, he spoke, “Yeah, I can guarantee you, _that_ never happened.”

Suddenly, it was hard to breathe, like his lungs just didn’t want to go through the effort anymore.

This wasn’t just some missing time. Bucky hadn’t done something to make Tony hate him and then forgotten about it. They’d apparently never been together in the first place. All those sweet moments cuddling with Tony during movie night, those amazing moments in the workshop as Tony was working with his arm and designing him a new one, those intimate moments in bed... None of those had happened?

Could the chair have created those memories? God knew why Hydra would have wanted him to believe such an intricate lie, but if they had...

No. The magic lady, she’d done something. It couldn’t all just be a fabrication of Hydra.

Either way, though--what could he do about it now?

“You okay, man?” James now looked almost worried about him, though his the tension in his frame made clear he wasn’t dropping his guard.

“No,” Bucky answered honestly. “Nothing is how I remember it.” He tried to take a steadying breath. It was shaky, but he got at least some oxygen from it. “What... what can you tell me about... me, I guess?”

James considered him for a moment, then sighed. “You’re James Buchanan Barnes. Hydra made you into the Winter Soldier.”

Bucky nodded, not sure whether to be glad that part fit his memory, or wish it had been part of what had changed.

“Rogers claimed you’d broken your programming, but a couple months ago, you were seen bombing the U.N.”

Bucky frowned. “The Winter Soldier never--I don’t remember bombing the U.N.”

James shrugged. “Tony eventually figured out you were framed, but we didn’t know that at the time, so you were brought in, and you killed a lot of people breaking out.”

Bucky’s stomach plummeted. “I what?” he whispered.

“Some Sokovian asshole had replaced the psychiatrist assigned to talk to you, and apparently did something to trigger you. Tony, the idiot, tried to stop you with just a watch gauntlet, and somehow didn’t get himself killed.”

Bucky realized he was shaking his head back and forth, horrified. But... the trigger words didn’t work anymore, Tony had helped him... except that had never happened, apparently. And so he’d almost killed Tony.

“So we went to try to take you in again, but Rogers had rounded up a gang to stop us. We fought in Leipzig Airport.”

Swallowing hard, Bucky gestured at James’ legs. “Did I...?”

James sighed and looked away. “No. This was friendly fire, actually.” He took a deep breath. “After that, Tony figured out you’d been framed, and went to track you and Rogers down. When he did, he learned what you’d done to his parents. Got to see it all on video.” He looked back at Bucky, murder in his eyes.

Bucky opened his mouth, but couldn’t find words.

“Then he, you, and Rogers beat the shit out of each other. I don’t know what happened to you or Rogers after you left him beat to hell in Siberia.”

Bucky found himself shaking his head again. “I didn’t--I wouldn’t--I don’t remember any of that.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one here with a history of being brainwashed, so you’re just gonna have to trust my version of events.”

He probably had a point. “So what now?” Bucky asked, feeling drained.

James studied him. “As long as you’re not currently a threat, I guess we’ll wait until Tony wakes up. He should decide what we do with you.”

Bucky was sure that if Tony decided they should kill him and hide the body, James would go along with the plan wholeheartedly.

He was less sure whether he himself would bother trying to stop them.

* * *

The King of Wakanda dropped Tony off in an infirmary of some sort, though not the same medical room where they were keeping Bucky in cryostasis. T’Challa spoke quietly with the apparent head physician, then told Tony he had duties to perform and would be back later.

Tony complained for the first five minutes of the medical exam, refusing to remove his shirt and demanding to know what exactly they were looking for. Then he found himself distracted by the advanced scanners they were using, and started asking questions about the technology instead.

By the time T’Challa returned, Tony was staring at the results screen with a mixture of disbelief, excitement, and fear. The screen showed energy readings from him, the physician and nurse, and their surroundings. The results were unlike anything he’d seen, but they suggested a somewhat outrageous explanation.

“This isn’t my universe.”

“I had suspected as much,” said the King from behind him.

Tony turned to stare at him, incredulous. “You suspected I was from a parallel universe.”

“Yes.”

“Have you dealt with this sort of thing before?”

“No. But I am familiar with multiverse theory, and as I’ve said, I have encountered you before. While a person can change, there were not many possible explanations for the differences in your behavior between then and now.”

Tony was having a hard time believing this himself, so he was surprised at how the King seemed to be taking it all in stride. If he hadn’t been involved in the scans while they were being made, he would suspect them all of fabricating this as some sort of bizarre plot.

As it was, there was one thing he still wasn’t sure about. “So, Bucky in the stasis pod...”

“He is not the Bucky Barnes you know.”

Tony nodded, but said, “You understand that I can’t just take your word for that?”

T’Challa considered him for a moment, then nodded. “I will bring you to him.”

To Tony’s surprise, they allowed him to take the handheld scanner they’d been using, rather than performing the scans themselves. He followed T’Challa, who was flanked by two more powerful-looking women--neither was the one who had knocked him out before, but both looked equally capable of lethal force. He guessed they were the King’s bodyguards. The spears they carried seemed a little primitive compared to the rest of the technology in this place, but Tony had to appreciate the red-and-gold color scheme of their uniforms.

Even being prepared for it this time, seeing Bucky in the cryochamber was a bit of a shock. His heart ached at the sight, even as he noticed the little things that suggested it wasn’t his Bucky. The man in the pod had the start of a full beard, whereas his boyfriend had been clean shaven the night before (or however long ago their date had been). This Bucky’s hair was a little longer, and ragged like he hadn’t had it trimmed since recovering from his time as the Winter Soldier. And despite the unconsciousness of being frozen, his face seemed twisted with pain, physical or emotional; either way, it tore at Tony’s heart.

Any of the differences could be explained by time passing, but it seemed there was likely another answer. Forcing his eyes to the device he held, Tony initiated the scan.

The unconscious man’s readings matched the readings of other inhabitants of this world. Not his Bucky.

Tony felt weak, but didn’t know if it was relief. His Bucky wasn’t here in cryo--so where was he? The magic had hit both of them, so was Bucky somewhere else in this universe? In a different one? How could Tony get them both back where they belonged?

Not only that, but... Even if this wasn’t his Bucky, Tony didn’t like the idea of any Bucky--and this one seemed like he might have had similar experiences, had probably undergone the same torture and brainwashing at the hands of Hydra--being stuck back in cryo like this.

Tony took a deep breath, let it out, and looked at T’Challa. “Okay. So he’s not my Bucky. Now--let him out.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Tony felt himself tense, and saw the King’s bodyguards tense in response.

“Sergeant Barnes requested to be placed in stasis himself.”

Tony’s first instinct was to deny that claim, but then he thought back to a moment in Bucky’s first few weeks at the tower.

Something on the television had set him off, and he’d broken the tv, a lamp, and Steve’s nose before they got him subdued. Later, Tony had assured him that the cost of the damaged items was nothing, that Steve had gotten worse when sparring and was already healed. Bucky had just stared at the floor. _“I’m a danger to myself and everyone around me. I could’ve killed someone. I should just be put back in the freezer, for good this time.”_

Remembering the guilt on Bucky’s face at the time, Tony asked now, “What did he do?”

T’Challa once again studied him, and Tony was getting sick of that look. “Before I discuss him any further, I’m afraid I must ask you some personal questions that may seem unrelated.”

Tony narrowed his eyes. “What questions?”

“In your universe, are your parents alive?”

Tony stilled, immediately realizing where this line of questioning would go. “No. They were murdered.”

“Do you know the identity of the murderer?”

Tony glared at the King, but understood why he was asking. “It was Hydra. They used an assassin called the Winter Soldier.” He looked back at the Bucky in the cryochamber. “It wasn’t his fault. He was the weapon, that’s all.”

After a moment, T’Challa spoke again. His voice sounded lighter, less worried, perhaps even surprised. “May I ask how you discovered this information?”

“He told me, he and Steve did, before he came to live at the Tower.” It had been a shock to be sure. Tony had needed time to cope with the revelation, but he’d come to realize that Bucky was really more victim than perpetrator. He’d welcomed Bucky to share the Avengers’ home shortly thereafter.

“I see.” T’Challa’s face, when Tony turned back, looked almost regretful. “That is not what happened here.”

“What did happen here?”

“Captain Rogers had information about the deaths, but kept it from Stark. Instead, Stark found out when he was shown video footage of the Winter Soldier killing his parents.”

Tony’s breath hitched. He didn’t know the details of how exactly the Winter Soldier had killed his parents, didn’t want to know, couldn’t imagine the horror of seeing it, of finding out that way.

“He did not take it well,” T’Challa continued. He looked grim. “I, too, know the rage that comes from witnessing the murder of a parent. I have also come to understand the damage that can be done by seeking vengeance from the wrong source. You have apparently reached the same understanding. I do not know if the Stark of this universe has, but at the time, he reacted quite violently against Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes. In your universe, do you have a mechanized suit of armor, possibly known as the Iron Man?”

Tony nodded absently as he looked back at the man in the cryochamber, feeling a different kind of horror. “I--Tony Stark hurt him?” Bucky didn’t look badly wounded--though the cryostasis was probably preventing the serum from healing the scratches on his face. There was also the matter of his missing arm... Maybe Hydra had never given him a replacement arm in this universe? No, if they’d used him as the Winter Soldier, they wouldn’t want him with such a drastic handicap. If Stark had done something to Bucky’s arm... Tony felt sick. “So why’s Bucky the one stuck in cryo?”

“That fight was preceded by more complicated events, in which someone used Barnes’ trigger words to control him, to hurt people. He feared being used this way again, so while my people work on a method to remove the programming, he asked to be kept in stasis.”

Well. If that was all... Tony pulled himself together and turned to face T’Challa. “Your Majesty,” he said, realizing that using the proper form of address would probably be the best way to do this, “I propose an exchange. I need use of your equipment and possibly an assistant in order to find my Bucky and determine how to get back to our universe. In exchange, I will give you the information you need to remove this Bucky’s Hydra programming.”

The King raised an eyebrow. “And if I do not agree to assist you in your search? Will you refuse to help this Bucky Barnes?”

Not expecting that response, Tony froze. He knew his answer, but wasn’t sure he wanted to reveal it.

Apparently his face answered for him. T’Challa nodded, a small smile on his face. “I thought as much. I agree to the terms of your ‘exchange.’”

Any chagrin Tony might have felt at being called out was entirely overpowered by relief. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” was his heartfelt reply.

* * *

Bucky spent an awkward few hours with a silent, glaring James before Tony appeared in the common area, looking disheveled but slightly more coherent than earlier.

He stopped when he saw the two of them on the couch, and he pointed accusingly at Bucky. “Not a dream, then.”

Bucky shrugged. “Seems like I’m the wrong person to ask about what’s real, here.”

Tony stared for another moment, then said “Coffee” and disappeared into the kitchen.

Bucky fought back a smile.

A few minutes later, Tony reemerged, clutching a mug and inhaling from it. “So. You’re here. Rhodey, FRI, why is he here?”

“We’re still a little fuzzy on that,” James admitted, “But he seems more confused than dangerous, so we agreed to let him wait for you to wake up and decide what to do about him.”

Tony eyed Bucky.

Bucky said nothing. When first talking to FRIDAY, he’d been sure he just needed to talk to Tony, to figure out what he’d done wrong and try to fix it. Now that he had some answers and nothing was as he remembered, he didn’t think he had any pleas to offer.

“Turn him in,” Tony said, in a voice that was supposed to be firm but had a hint of a question. “That’s what we should do, right?”

“He is still technically a fugitive, at least until the evidence is cleared by the court,” James agreed. “And that’s only for the bombing--he’ll probably be tried for all the shit he did for Hydra.”

Bucky swallowed, still saying nothing. To be honest, he’d expected to end up in prison long before now. Being sent there by Tony would hurt, though.

Tony pressed a hand to his face. “Ross would be overjoyed. I don’t know if I can handle giving him the satisfaction.”

That... sounded like Tony was reconsidering.

“And I keep picturing...” Tony lowered his hand, shoulders slumping. “Goddammit. I know what I have to do.”

* * *

Tony watched as color started to return to Bucky’s face.

Not his Bucky.

Still, it was with a mix of heartache and relief that he watched the man who looked exactly like his boyfriend as he was thawed from the cryostasis. As life returned to the slack face, Tony wanted to reach out and brush the hair back from his eyes, press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

There were multiple reasons he shouldn’t. But he felt his hand drifting toward the man...

Bucky’s-- _not his Bucky’s_ \--eyes popped open, darting to the hand reaching toward him, then to Tony’s face. The man tensed, and in a rough voice asked, “Are you here to kill me?”

Tony yanked his arm back and fell back a step, nearly colliding with a--doctor? nurse?--who had come forward to check the patient’s vitals. “No!” he choked out, “No, I’m here to help you.”

Shit, being here for this had been a bad idea. T’Challa had suggested as much. If this were his Bucky, of course Tony should be the first face he saw upon waking, but this _wasn’t his Bucky_. Tony should’ve been working on a way to find his own Bucky. (T’Challa had returned Tony’s phone, but it turned out not to work here--which meant Bucky’s wouldn’t either--so the easy answer was out.) He should’ve left this Bucky alone until--

“Back away, Tony,” came a voice that was familiar, though it had been some time since he’d heard that harsh tone directed at him.

Steve.

T’Challa had revealed that he’d alerted Captain Rogers to Tony’s presence in Wakanda when he’d first arrived--when the king had believed Tony to be the one from this universe--and that the man would arrive within a day. Tony hadn’t been concerned, but now he realized he should have been a little more cautious.

He turned slowly, keeping his movements slow and nonthreatening. He wasn’t keen on getting his ass handed to him in this room for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. Steve wasn’t wearing his Captain America uniform or holding his shield, but his stance said he was ready to fight if he needed to.

Tony met Cap’s hard (and weary, though one had to know the man well to see that) gaze with one of a practiced calm. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed in a clipped tone, “I got that. We never really knew each other, right?”

Tony blinked, feeling a tug of pain at the thought of not being friends with Steve Rogers. Sure, they’d been like oil and vinegar when they’d first met, but now their friendship meant as much to Tony as his friendship with Rhodey, and that was saying something. But of course, this universe’s Tony had managed to fuck up that relationship, if they’d ever had it to begin with. “Yeah, that’s not what I meant,” he answered. “I mean I’m not the Tony from your universe.”

“...What?” Steve’s face wrinkled in confusion, and Tony fought back a laugh.

“Parallel universes, Cap. They’re a thing. Apparently. I’m the Tony Stark from another universe, and I’m sorry your universe’s Tony Stark is such an asshole, but I’m not here to hurt your Bucky. I want to help him.”

Still tense, Steve kept his eyes locked on Tony as he asked, “Buck, you okay?”

Tony glanced back, seeing the nurse checking over the recently revived man. He appeared a little lost, which Tony supposed was fair, given the conversation he was witnessing upon waking from cryostasis. “I--yeah, I think so. Little confused, to be honest.” He looked back and forth between Steve and Tony, while absently obeying the nurse’s quiet instructions.

Tony looked back to Steve, who was still looking at Tony suspiciously. That was more familiar than the outright hostility. Tony did find himself trying to lie to his Steve more often than he should, usually about his own well-being, but this time he had nothing to hide.

“He is telling the truth, Captain.” T’Challa stood in the doorway behind Steve.

Steve looked over in surprise. “Your Highness...” he said, a little uncertain. “How do you know?”

“He has shown no sign of hostility toward Mr. Barnes--has been quite protective, in fact. He seemed to have no recollection of the events that led to his presence here. At first I suspected a form of amnesia, but he claimed to remember other... events that seemed incompatible with this world. My personal physician has examined him, and found evidence--”

A sudden tune echoed through the room, and Steve’s eyes went wide as he pulled out a flip phone--a goddamn flip phone, for fuck’s sake, Tony’s Steve knew better than to touch such outdated technology when Tony had anything to say about it.

Steve opened the phone and gave a curt, “Rogers.” His eyes got even wider with whatever he heard on the other end. “...Tony?”

Aha. Tony grinned. Asshole though he may be, his counterpart had pretty perfect timing to help convince Steve of what was going on here.

“What? No, that’s not possible, Bucky’s--and _you_ , you’re--Tony, Bucky’s _here_. And you’re not going to believe this, but... so are you. Here, I mean. I’m not--I haven’t gone off the deep end, Tony, he’s--he’s you, and he’s right here, claiming to be from another universe. I know it sounds crazy but--wait, if you’re saying Bucky’s there, then maybe--”

Suddenly Tony was grabbing the phone from Steve’s hands and clutching it desperately to his ear. “Bucky? Put Bucky on the phone right now, asshole.”

 _“Excuse me?”_ The voice on the other end was annoyed and familiar, from videos he’d seen of himself. If he’d had any doubts he was dealing with a parallel universe, they were gone now.

“You know what you are, I know I can be an asshole but even I’m not as bad as you apparently are. Now put Bucky on, I need to talk to him.” He waved a dismissive arm at Steve, who was reaching out to take his phone back.

After a moment, the sound quality on the call changed. His own (cranky) voice then said, “You’re on speaker.”

“Buckling?” Tony asked immediately. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Steve gave up trying to get his phone back, and just stared incredulously at Tony.

“Tony? Oh, god, doll, is that really you?”

Hearing that beloved voice, Tony felt something loosen in his chest. He glanced at the Bucky-that-wasn’t-his, whose eyes were wide and bewildered, then looked away. “It’s me,” he said. “Sorry you’re stuck with Asshole Bizzaro-me there. He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

“No, he--I just--I didn’t know what was real, I thought...” Fuck, after everything he’d been through, of course Bucky would take the strangeness of a parallel universe, of a Tony who’d been hostile to him, as a sign of his own mental instability. “But it’s--you’re really my Tony?”

“I’m really your Tony, love. Looks like we both got transported to a parallel universe, but I’m going to find a way to get us back home. I promise.”

“Yeah, course you will.” Tony was relieved that Bucky sounded a little more together now.

“Where are you now, sweetheart?”

“New York. The Tower, but it’s all wrong. Where are you?”

“In Wa--”

Suddenly the phone was yanked from his hand, Steve hissing, “You can’t tell him where we are.”

Tony blinked at him, rubbing his hand. “It’s a _flip phone_ , Cap. I doubt you have anti-tracking tech on it, so chances are he already knows where you are.”

Steve’s face went through some amusing contortions as he realized Tony was right. Sheepishly, he handed the phone back to Tony.

“Yeah, tell King T’Challa I said Hi,” the asshole version of him said dryly.

Tony raised a pointed eyebrow at Steve, knowing he’d heard. Steve looked adorably bashful.

“So, Buckling, you’re half a world away from me, and that sucks. I want to be with you right now, but there’s another--well, another you here, that needs my help. I think I need to stay here for at least a couple days. Are you gonna be okay there? You have my full support if you have to kick other me’s ass to defend yourself.”

There was a pause. “Well, actually--” the asshole Tony began.

“Oh, no, you’ve got your ‘I’m gonna do something stupid’ face on, Tony, stop that,” Rhodey’s voice broke in.

Tony grinned. Sounded like this universe’s Tony at least hadn’t screwed up that vital relationship. Maybe all hope wasn’t lost for the guy.

As though he hadn’t been interrupted, the other Tony continued, “I may as well fly him to you. I’ve got a jet just sitting around, hasn’t crossed the ocean in a while.”

“Yeah? That’d be... thanks,” his Bucky sounded surprised, but not wary.

Unlike Tony, who was not compelled to trust the asshole who had already hurt one Bucky Barnes. Given the concerned looks the Bucky and Steve here were giving each other, he figured they were in the same camp.

“Right, thanks,” Tony said, his voice clipped, “But know this. If you so much as think about hurting Bucky--either one of them--I will hurt you. I will do things to you that make the things Howard did seem like loving caresses, make your time in Afghanistan seem like a tropic resort, make you long for death by palladium poisoning, do you understand me?”

The shock previously worn by those in the room with him was nothing compared to now. Tony would have laughed at their slack-jawed faces if he weren’t so focused on making sure his counterpart knew how serious he was.

“O... kay. Yeah, got it. To the pain, and all that, right? I’m just offering to help, here.”

Knowing his own voice, he could tell the other Tony was trying to be flippant to hide the fact that he was a little unnerved. Good.

“Okay, good. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart,” Tony returned his own tone to a lighthearted cheer.

“And you accuse _me_ of bein’ overprotective? I’ll be fine, doll. See you soon. I love you.”

“Love you.”

When the phone disconnected, Tony handed it back to Steve, who was still gaping at him, but reflexively took the outdated piece of crap.

“Right,” Tony said loudly, clapping his hands together and pointing them at Bucky. “Brainwashing. You ready to get rid of it?”

* * *

[ ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12568064)

PART II

Tony shoved a few more things in his bag as Rhodey stared at him judgmentally from a chair.

“So, now you’re helping a fugitive leave the country.”

“Well, it’s not the same Barnes, so he’s not actually a fugitive. Wait, are you?” Tony looked at the maybe-not-crazy man who he’d volunteered to transport across the ocean to be reunited with his lover who apparently was Tony from a parallel universe.

Okay, someone or something here was crazy. Possibly Tony.

Other-Barnes shrugged with his sleek metal arm. “Not anymore.”

“That’s comforting,” Rhodey said sarcastically, then got his serious face on, the one Tony tried to avoid as much as possible. “Tony, even if you’re committed to helping him, you know you don’t actually have to go with him. Your jet’ll take him wherever you program it to go.”

“So you’re saying I should trust him with a half-billion-dollar piece of equipment.”

“I’m saying I’d rather you do that than trust him, the two bastards who beat the hell out of you in Siberia, and a guy who claims to be you from a parallel universe, with your _life_.”

“Come on, how can I pass up the chance to meet myself?”

“I know, it’s been a dream of yours since you were a kid, to finally meet someone as smart as you. You do remember he called you an asshole?”

“You do remember that you’ve called me an asshole, I’ve lost track of how many times? Hey, maybe you and he would get along.”

“Fine, maybe we will. Because if you’re going, I’m going.” Rhodey stood, shaking only slightly as the armor leg brace assisted his movement.

“Yeah, that’s not happening, sugarplum.”

“You are not going alone with him.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll take a suit. Besides, I don’t think having you limping along behind me is going to be much help in any case.”

Tony gave him a pat on the shoulder, with just enough force to send him gently back onto the couch, then grabbed his bag and turned to go. “Come on, Alterna-Barnes, wheels up in five.” He moved fast enough Barnes had to rush to catch up, definitely too fast for Rhodey to make it to the jet before takeoff.

“Well, good to know you’re just as much of an ass to your friends,” Barnes said dryly, now walking in stride with him and making it look like a leisurely stroll.

“What, your Tony wouldn’t leave his best friend behind to protect him?”

“Not like that.”

“Yeah, well, bully for him. He ever think he’d gotten his best friend killed, then find out that no, good news, he’d only doomed him to paralysis and lifelong pain?”

The look of sympathy on Barnes’ face was not what Tony was going for. He gritted his teeth and walked faster.

* * *

Bucky was feeling a little overwhelmed by everything that had happened since he woke up.

He certainly had not expected the first face he saw when he was unfrozen to be Tony Stark, let alone a Tony Stark from an alternate universe where he didn’t hate Bucky but was apparently in love with him.

Really, being offered an immediate solution to the Hydra programming and a new prosthetic arm in the same day was just a drop in the bucket next to that first shocking reveal.

The new arm, Bucky refused to accept until after the deprogramming. Even one-armed, he knew he would be dangerous, but he’d rather have that slight disadvantage until he knew his mind was completely his own.

“Some Wakandan scientists made it for you,” Stark had explained, “So it’s fairly impressive, albeit not as good as the one I made for my Bucky.”

From the look of sad fondness on Steve’s face when Stark spoke, Bucky guessed that the man’s behavior was similar to that of this universe’s Stark, back when he and Steve had been friends. Before Bucky had come along and messed everything up.

Now, Bucky was lying on a table with a strange contraption on his head. Above him stood a poised Wakandan doctor, a hopeful-looking Steve, and a babbling Stark.

“You need to be calm. Relax. You’re going to be resetting your own thoughts, so you need to stay in control. I know it’s hard, but--”

“No offense, Stark, but it’ll be easier to relax if you’re not here,” Bucky interrupted.

Stark’s face froze, pain briefly written across his features. (It was nothing like the agony in his face when Stark saw the video of the Winter Soldier... Shit, thinking about that was not going to help Bucky’s calm, either.) Then he gave a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Right. Understandable. Cap, you can talk him through the process. I’ll just... be outside.” He turned and left the room.

The doctor didn’t react to the incident, still setting things up at the periphery of Bucky’s vision, but Steve watched Stark go, then looked back at Bucky. He was wearing that fucking sad smile that made Bucky hurt whenever he saw it.

It made him feel guilty, too. “Sorry. I know he’s just tryin’ to help.”

Steve shook his head. “No, Buck--I mean, yes, I think so, but you need to feel safe, and he’s...” Steve looked at the door again. “I just can’t help but wonder, if I’d just told him...”

Bucky realized the ‘him’ in Steve’s last sentence meant their universe’s Stark, not the man who’d just left the room. _Why didn’t you?_ Bucky wanted to ask, but he knew the answer--him. Steve had been trying to protect Bucky, but it had ended up being the worst decision for everyone involved.

Hearing the lovey-dovey conversation between the other Tony and Bucky made it clear how differently things could have gone.

For now, though, Bucky needed to concentrate on himself. The other Tony had provided a way for him to regain control of his own mind, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

* * *

Being alone in his jet with Barnes--even if it wasn’t the Barnes he’d fought--was uncomfortable, but not as bad as it could have been. Thankfully, the man didn’t try to sit right near him or start up a conversation, or Tony might have closed himself in the empty cockpit for the duration, and those seats were not comfortable--he didn’t know how pilots (in those plebeian planes that needed actual pilots) could tolerate them for so long.

So having Barnes sit in the seats on the other side of the plane was ideal. Except.

He was still in Tony’s line of sight, and he kept opening and closing the panels on his arm. Over and over.

It didn’t make a sound, not that Tony could hear. It wasn’t annoying, exactly. It was just weird, was all.

And kind of fascinating. The way the metal moved, it was sleek, elegant, well-designed. Familiar, but not.

“Your arm looks different.” The instant Tony spoke, he cursed himself. He didn’t want to have a conversation with Barnes, he really didn’t. But it turned out sitting in silence wasn’t really something he did well.

At his words, Barnes looked up, and gave a small smile that gave Tony the impression he’d walked into a trap, that the motions had been entirely to tempt Tony into breaking the silence. But the smile wasn’t gloating--on the contrary, it was a satisfied fondness, so the trap left Tony more startled than annoyed.

“Different from your--from the me in this universe, huh? It’s not the one Hydra gave me.”

Tony thought about the metal arm his universe’s Barnes had once had. He thought of that metal hand smashing hard into his chest, ripping, trying to pull out the arc reactor. Though the arc reactor was no longer part of his body, keeping him alive, the thought of it being ripped out had still terrified Tony. The unibeam that destroyed Barnes arm had been more instinct than a decision.

Tony wondered if he should feel guilt about the act. He figured he had enough to feel guilty about.

“You lose the other one?” Tony asked, aiming for a mildly curious tone. He found himself standing, moving to a closer seat to better hear the answer.

“Well, ya know, you just put something down, can’t remember where ya left it, ya know it’ll show up the instant you get a new one...” Bucky grinned, and looked almost like the newsreel James Buchanan Barnes, more than the Winter Soldier Tony had met ever had. Then he shook his head. “Nah, I still had it but it was hurtin’. Tony said he could fix it, but that he’d rather make me a whole new one. And this one is amazing. Not that I was surprised; everything he makes is incredible.”

Tony stared, trying to process everything. That was why the arm looked familiar--it was (sort of) his own design, with some resemblance to the suit (which he’d once called a high-tech prosthesis, which he’d used as the model for Rhodey’s top-of-the-line leg braces).

Tony had destroyed Barnes’ arm. In a parallel universe, another Tony had made another Barnes a new arm.

And the way this Barnes talked about his Tony... Just fuck buddies, he might have been able to handle. Objectively, Barnes was attractive--both as the charming Howling Commando of the newsreels and as the more rugged post-Winter-Soldier version he (they) had become. But the sweet pet names on the phone, and now the way Barnes seemed to worship his Tony’s creations...

Tony suddenly wondered if his counterpart had created an Ultron.

He almost asked, but didn’t really want to know all the ways the other him was better, less of a constant fuck-up.

Then something from the phone conversation occurred to him, at least one way that maybe the other universe wasn’t better.

“Your--the Tony from your universe, his dad abused him, didn’t he?”

The happy grin vanished from Barnes’ face, and Tony realized he was sorry to see it go. “I take it yours didn’t?”

Tony shook his head. “He wasn’t the best dad, by any stretch, but--no, he never physically hurt me. I... he was my dad.”

Barnes swallowed, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Tony asked, knowing his voice was sharper than it should be. “ _You_ didn’t kill them.”

“I killed them in my universe. The Bucky Barnes here killed them here. For both of those--I’m sorry.”

Tony stood, and began pacing the aisle. “I know--I know it was brainwashing. That Hydra did it, that he wasn’t really himself. That he’s as much a victim as--” Tony broke off, shaking his head. “That he’s a victim, too. But I can’t--I saw him kill them. I saw him kill my m--mom. How am I supposed to not hate him for that?”

Tony continued pacing, but paused when he heard Barnes speak. “I don’t know. I--I still can’t quite believe my Tony forgave me. He didn’t have to see it--God, I can’t imagine what that would have done to him, how much it hurt you--but I still don’t understand how he could look me in the eye after we told him, much less invite me into his home. And then--”

Suddenly, there was a shudder like the plane had hit a spot of turbulence, then the power went out.

All of it. The lights, the sound of the engines, everything.

Well, shit.

“What did you do?” Tony demanded of Barnes, heading to the cockpit to assess the situation. Thankfully, the sun hadn’t set yet, so there was light coming in from the windows.

No emergency lights, no nothing.

“Nothing,” Barnes replied tightly, following him to the cockpit.

Tony sat in the empty pilot seat, flicking a few switches (not at random, he wasn’t an idiot, thank you very much) and getting no response. Everything was just... dead. Fucking EMP.

And the plane was starting to dip. Tony grabbed the yoke to steady her in a glide. They were high enough he had some time to arrange a water landing--they were still over the middle of the Atlantic.

Assuming the EMP was a deliberate attack, did the attackers just want them dead in the crash, or would they be closing in? Was the biggest concern now surviving the fall and getting back to land, or fending off an incoming assault?

 

Tony looked over at Barnes, who had taken the copilot seat and was sitting tensely, eyes darting around out the window.

“Can I trust you to keep her gliding steady?”

Barnes shot him an unreadable look, but reached out with his right arm to take the yoke on his side. “Your suit might be affected, too.”

“It’s shielded against EMP,” Tony said, starting to head back to grab his stowed suitcase armor.

“So was my arm,” Barnes replied.

Tony froze, looking back. The soldier was doing a pretty good job holding the jet steady, considering he was still using only one arm. The other hung loosely at his side, and Tony wondered how he’d missed that, considering how much tension was in the rest of the man’s body.

“Shit,” Tony said, then hurried to check his suit.

It was as dead as everything else.

As dead as they might be soon. At least, Tony thought with a hysterical laugh, he didn’t have the arc reactor in his chest right now, or he’d be dead even sooner.

He went back to the cockpit and took the pilot-side yoke. “Yeah, suit’s dead. Go sit in the cabin, I’ll take her down. And stay on guard, we don’t know if the attackers are planning on moving in.”

“I can do it. You’ll be safer back there. Buckle up.”

Tony couldn’t believe they were arguing this. “You have one working arm. I have a better chance of getting her down in one piece. Go.”

Barnes tightened his jaw, but glanced at him and nodded once. “Fine. Fasten your harness first, and I will.”

Tony did so, then took the yoke.

Barnes stood. He pulled a gun from... somewhere, and handed it grip-first to Tony before he had time to do more than tense. “In case you need it. Since you don’t have the suit.” Then Barnes headed back to the cabin.

Tony took a deep breath, watching the approaching ocean.

It reminded him of a portal, of open space, of attacking armies.

He was going to have more nightmares, he just knew it. Well, if he survived all this, anyway.

* * *

This was it.

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck,” Steve assured him as he tightened all the clamps holding Bucky to the chair.

“Is the whole bondage thing really necessary?” Stark asked, waving in their general direction. “The deprogramming worked, you don’t need to strap him down like a rabid dog.”

Still fastening the straps, Steve tensed. Bucky had a momentary urge to growl--not because he was angry at the comparison, but simply because he was curious what Stark’s reaction would be. Instead, he met Stark’s gaze and calmly asked, “Is you being here really necessary?” He knew he might hurt Stark again, but he’d rather do so with words than physically, if this test failed.

This time, Stark didn’t walk away. Instead, he just crossed his arms and put on a face of sheer determination.

It was strange how like Steve he looked in that moment.

“Yes,” Stark said firmly. “I know you don’t trust me, that’s understandable, but that’s only going to make this a better test.”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” Bucky found himself muttering.

To Bucky’s surprise, Stark smiled at that. “You sound like my Bucky did.”

“Yeah? What’d you tell him?

From the grin on Stark’s face, Bucky probably didn’t want to know. “Promised him something. Can’t promise you the same thing, of course.”

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that, Stark?”

The man’s grin got wider. “So I’ve been told. But, uh, you can call me Tony, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky agreed. “Tony, get out.”

“Nope.”

Steve had finished securing Bucky to the chair, but was still oddly quiet. “Steve, come on, you know I’m right. Tell him to get out.”

Steve looked at Bucky, opened his mouth, looked at Tony, and closed his mouth.

Bucky realized what was happening, though he was surprised by it. “You don’t want to fight with him.”

Tony raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Wow. That’s a first.”

Steve winced, looking at the floor. “The last time I fought Tony... I almost killed him.”

“Okay, one,” Tony began, “That wasn’t me. And two, from what I’ve heard, you had a good reason to fight.” Tony looked at Bucky, and Bucky still didn’t know how to handle that look of tenderness directed at him.

So he turned away, looking at Steve. “And three, fighting him here means protecting him,” Bucky added pointedly.

“Wait,” Tony said, “No, nevermind, you can continue not fighting me. Because I’m staying.”

Finally, Bucky gave in, because he wanted this over with. “Fine. But if I break outta this chair, you’d better be ready to run.”

“You’ll be fine,” Tony promised.

Then he began speaking the triggers. He spoke them slowly but without flaw, from memory. Bucky felt himself tense more and more with each phrase, though it felt... different. The pressure that was usually there... wasn’t.

“Один.”

Bucky gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, preparing for the final trigger.

“грузовой вагон.”

Nothing.

“Buck?” Steve asked, sounding uncertain.

Bucky opened his eyes and looked at Steve. “It’s me. I’m... me. It worked.” He looked up at Tony, who was smiling--not smug or relieved, just smiling. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “Told you you’d be fine.”

Then a grinning Steve was unstrapping Bucky, much more quickly than he’d fastened the straps. “Thank you, Tony, God, Buck, it worked!”

The instant Bucky was free, Steve lifted him up into a hug. Still missing his left arm, Bucky held Steve as tightly as he could with his right. Then he pulled away as he heard the door opening.

“Wait, St--Tony!”

The man stopped at the door. “What, now you don’t want me to leave? Make up your mind, Buckster.”

Bucky reached out and pulled Stark into another tight one-armed hug. “I meant it. Thank you.”

Tony hesitated at first, then returned the hug.

“Mr. Stark.”

Bucky pulled back to see the King of Wakanda standing by the open door. He had a solemn expression on his face and foreboding in his voice, immediately bringing down the celebratory atmosphere.

Tony froze. “What is it?” he asked, barely breathing.

“Colonel Rhodes has reported that the signal from the jet carrying this universe’s Tony Stark and your Bucky Barnes to Wakanda has been lost, and he has been unable to contact them. It may simply be a technical malfunction, but--”

“No,” Tony interrupted, “If he’s anything at all like me--that means the jet might be--” he swallowed hard. “Did you get their last coordinates? I need to--shit, I don’t have the suit, I don’t have _anything_ , I need to--”

“We can take my jet,” Steve said.

Tony looked startled for only a moment, then nodded gratefully.

“I’m coming, too,” Bucky said.

He wasn’t surprised by the simultaneous “No, Buck,” and “Absolutely not” he got in response, but he also didn’t care.

“I owe it to you to help you find your Bucky, and I owe it to... the other Stark, to help him.”

“We don’t know how stable you are yet, and you only have one arm!” Steve protested.

Bucky shrugged. “I’ll stay in the plane if I’m not needed, but I want to be there to help if I can.”

Tony studied him for a moment, then said, “You owe neither of us a thing, but fine. Come on, let’s get going.”

* * *

“Tony? Come on, sw--Stark, time to wake up.”

Tony whined. His head ached, but not like a hangover. Was there a battle?

“Come on, there ya go, get up, we gotta get moving.”

The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. It sounded concerned. Tony should probably open his eyes, at least, to get more information.

The first thing he saw was a worried-looking Barnes, which was a shock, and confusing until he saw his surroundings--the cockpit of his jet--and remembered everything. “We made it, huh?” Tony groaned, feeling gingerly at his forehead where he must’ve hit the yoke when they crashed. He hissed and his hand came away wet with blood, but at least the blood wasn’t gushing or dripping into his eye.

“Yeah, but we gotta get goin’. There are sounds that might be the plane sinking, or might be--”

A loud screeching of metal echoed through the plane, then the sound of voices.

“--intruders,” Barnes finished in a whisper. “You stay here, and stay quiet.”

Tony didn’t have a chance to reply before he was gone.

He nearly held his breath, trying to stay quiet, undo the harness (that really hadn’t helped as much as it should have, he’d have to change that in the next model), and listen to what was happening in the cabin.

Two voices, one female, one male--not Barnes. There were also sounds of movement, like slow and careful searching.

“Where are they?” the man asked.

“I told you we should’ve waited. We can’t use him if he’s dead.” Tony wondered if she meant him or Barnes.

“I don’t see any bodies. Unless they parachuted out, they’re around here somewhere, dead or alive.”

“Maybe they’re hiding. Should I just--start?”

“May as well.”

By this point, Tony had managed to unbuckle, apparently without being heard. He clutched the gun Barnes had given him, wondering if the soldier had another, and debated the risk of moving. He’d rather be standing, facing the direction of the threats, but he wasn’t sure if the cockpit was in the line-of-sight of the intruders.

The woman started speaking Russian. Short phrases, with pauses in between. A countdown? Except Tony knew a small amount of Russian, and while there he’d heard the numbers 17 and 9, the rest were unfamiliar. Wait, then 1. Was that the last--?

There came one more unfamiliar phrase, then, “Soldat?”

Then Barnes spoke. He said something in Russian, with no inflection in his voice.

That... was probably bad.

Tony nearly jumped at the squeal he heard from the woman. “It worked! The Winter Soldier is ours!”

That... was definitely bad.

If Barnes would be following their orders now, staying still wouldn’t provide Tony any safety. Tony quickly slid out of the seat and to the back of the cockpit, pressing his back to the side wall of nonfunctioning controls. He still felt trapped, but less vulnerable than with his back to the threats.

“Soldier, where is Stark?” the woman demanded in English, and Tony held his breath, gripping the gun tightly.

“In the cockpit,” Barnes answered. Tony gritted his teeth, but then the soldier added, “He died on impact.”

Wait, what?

Tony tried to make sense of what had just happened. Barnes had lied. But he’d been triggered, he had to follow orders, right? Unless... maybe the trigger hadn’t worked--the trigger words could have been different in his universe, or he’d somehow been deprogrammed--but he’d decided to pretend he was under their control?

To... protect Tony?

Tony focused back in on the conversation outside the cockpit.

“--doesn’t matter, we got what we came for,” the woman said. “Come on, let’s go. Soldier, primary objective: obey me and my partner. Do not harm us. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good. Now, come with us.”

The three seemed to be moving back the way the intruders had come in. Tony wondered what he should do. If he shot at them, he’d reveal himself, rendering Barnes’ subterfuge useless, and he didn’t know how armed or armored they might be. He didn’t have his suit, he didn’t even have a goddamn radio.

Letting them go and hoping Barnes had a plan seemed the only option.

Then, of course, the question would be whether he’d survive long enough to be rescued and then murdered by his alternate universe counterpart for letting his boyfriend get captured.

The sounds of others in the plane had faded. There was a distant thunk, before the sound of rotors spinning and a smaller vessel taking off. Tony cautiously peeked around the corner, seeing he was indeed alone in the jet. He looked at the missing rear door, torn from its hinges. Outside, the wing wasn’t yet fully submerged in the water, though the end of it was. In the distance, he caught sight of a seaplane flying away--roughly northeast, based on the sun beginning to set. Given the vessel’s height and trajectory, it had to have been their attackers.

Then Tony noticed something outside on the wing. A bright red bag with “SURVIVAL KIT” written on the side. It didn’t match the ones he stocked, so it must have come from the intruders’ vessel. Either it had fallen out and onto the wing by some amazing coincidence, or Barnes had managed to leave it for him.

Carefully, Tony stepped out to pull the bag into the plane. Once inside, he opened it, and gave a quiet “Whoop!” of joy.

Inside, among other things, were a flare gun... and a working radio.

* * *

Bucky wasn’t sure what the plan was once they got to the last known coordinates of the missing jet, but it turned out it didn’t matter.

“I’m picking up a radio signal,” Tony said from the copilot’s seat beside Steve. (Bucky had seen no reason to fight him for the seat, especially since he was down an arm at the moment, so he was instead sitting behind Steve.) Tony hit the switch to activate the audio, and then... Tony’s--Stark’s--voice echoed through the radio.

_“...anyone who can hear me. Downed plane, requesting assistance...”_

Steve hit the switch to respond. “Tony! Sit tight, we’re on our way.” Releasing the switch, he asked the Tony in the cockpit, “Can you trace the signal?”

Tony nodded, as the voice over the radio asked incredulously, _“...Cap?”_

“I told you, Tony. If you need me, I’ll be there.” The sad smile was on Steve’s face again, but this time it seemed like there was a bit of hope in it.

Then the Tony in the cockpit broke in, “You have Bucky with you, right?”

The silence lasted long enough that Bucky briefly wondered if they’d lost the signal. Finally, the reply came, _“He was taken.”_

Bucky couldn’t tell if there was more fear or anger in Tony’s voice as he bit out, “Taken?”

Stark replied carefully, _“They were... Hydra, maybe. A man and a woman, who apparently knew the Winter Soldier’s trigger words.”_

Bucky tensed at that, and he looked at Tony in fear. He thought...

“Bucky isn’t vulnerable to those anymore,” Tony said firmly, meeting Bucky’s eyes.

 _“Yeah, uh--I guess he faked it. To save me.”_ After an awkward pause, Stark continued defensively, _“Really, you only have yourself to blame, for forgiving him and befriending him and all that. The Barnes of my universe certainly wouldn’t risk his life to save Tony Stark.”_

Tony raised an eyebrow at Bucky, who shrugged. “The Barnes of your universe is with us right now, apparently on our way to save your ass despite the fact that he’s missing an arm--because of you, I understand--and you let my Bucky get taken?” Tony’s voice cracked on the last word.

“Tony,” Steve began, reaching an arm out toward the copilot.

Then Stark spoke again, the defensiveness gone. _“They went northeast--heading roughly 50 degrees--about twenty minutes ago, a small seaplane. If you’ve locked onto my coordinates, you could extrapolate from there. Go after him.”_

Tony looked at Steve, his expression unreadable.

Steve said into the radio, “Will you be okay? Is your position stable?”

_“More or less.”_

“That means less, doesn’t it?” Steve asked Tony in the cockpit.

Looking resigned, Tony nodded. “Probably, yeah.” He sighed. “Get him first. Bucky’s--he’ll be okay.”

Bucky could tell Tony was trying to reassure himself, that it was killing him not to go after his boyfriend right away, but he also seemed to have faith that his Bucky would be able to take care of himself.

“Tony,” Steve said into the radio, “We’re coming for you.”

* * *

Tony sat in the liferaft, watching a half billion dollars sink underneath the waves. They might be able to retrieve the craft later--would get better press if they could, rather than let it sit there polluting the ocean--but recovery was going to cost more than they would recoup from the waterlogged mess.

Beside him in the raft, weighing it down so much there were several inches of water freezing parts of his anatomy he’d really rather not freeze, was the suitcase suit. Letting it sink was not an option. Even though it was currently nonfunctional, and the odds of someone else finding it were astronomically low, it wasn’t worth the risk.

Granted, if some curious whale or shark wandered by and gave the raft much more than a tap, there would be nothing Tony could do to stop it. Because Tony had foolishly assumed that his top-of-the-line tech would be more than enough, that something as low-tech as an emergency raft was barely even worth bothering with. At least he had included one, or he’d be floating in a life vest, without enough buoyancy to keep the suit at all.

But help was on its way. Three people who had more reason to hate him than to save him were coming to rescue him.

When they reported they were in the vicinity of his radio signal, Tony shot off a flare, and soon he saw a quinjet approaching.

If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the same one Cap and Barnes had taken to Siberia.

They had left him there, his own method of transport thoroughly destroyed in the fight. If T’Challa hadn’t followed him and then provided him transport along with the restrained Zemo, Tony likely would have died there.

Now they were coming to save him. Along with an alternate universe version of himself, whose boyfriend he had allowed to be captured by villains. This was really not the way he had pictured his day going. Or his life, really.

The jet came down to hover about twenty feet over the raft, and a rope came down. _“Can you climb up?”_ Tony’s own voice came over the radio.

“Yeah.” He tied the rope to the handle of the suitcase, shoved the radio into a pocket, and started climbing.

About halfway up, the head wound he’d mostly forgotten about started throbbing, and he had to pause.

“You okay down there?” a voice shouted.

“Fine,” Tony managed to reply, though he wasn’t sure if it was loud enough for them to hear. He started moving again.

When he was almost to the jet, he had to take another break. Then there were hands helping to haul him inside.

It was Other-Tony, laying on the floor to pull Tony up with both arms. Behind him, Barnes had hooked his legs around a bench so he could use his single arm and his body weight to steady Other-Tony.

Tony nodded his thanks, taking a moment to catch his breath before saying, “Gotta pull up my suit now.”

Other-Tony’s eyes flashed with surprise and sudden anger. “You had. Your fucking. Suit?”

“It’s dead at the moment--what, you thought I just decided to hang out on a raft and climb a rope for kicks? Give me a minute to pull it up, dry it off, and get it some power, and I should be able to reboot it.” Other-Tony no longer looked murderous, and started hauling the rope up. “Our attackers had some new kind of EMP--killed the electronics in the plane, my suit, Barnes’ arm...”

A couple feet of rope slipped through Other-Tony’s slack grip before he tightened his hold again. “Barnes’ arm? He’s been taken, and his arm isn’t working?”

That part, at least, hadn’t been Tony’s fault. But somehow, seeing the fear on Other-Tony’s face, he couldn’t help but feel guilty about it anyway.

* * *

After the two Tony Starks had gotten the suit hauled up and the hatch secured, Steve set a heading of 050.

Bucky plopped down beside him in the copilot’s seat, since both Tonys were occupied with getting the suit rebooted.

Steve exchanged an amused look with Bucky, as they listened to the two Tonys argue over who would wear the suit for the rescue.

“It’s my suit, I’m going.”

“He’s my boyfriend, I’m going. Besides, you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine. It’s my fault he got captured, I should--”

“Uh, no, that’s exactly why you _shouldn’t_ \--”

“Tony,” Steve said in his best commanding voice, and both Tonys turned to look at him.

“Okay, Tony from this universe is Tony One, visitor is Tony Two,” Steve declared first. “Tony One, it’s not your fault. Tony Two, there’s a chance the suit isn’t exactly the same as the one you know, and you can’t afford the time it might cost to learn any differences. Tony One, suit up.”

Steve almost expected Tony One to be smug about his declaration, but instead his former teammate seemed shocked speechless.

Tony Two looked annoyed but didn’t fight Steve’s ruling. “You’re right. Dammit.”

Tony One finally found his voice. “Yeah. Okay.”

Steve turned back to the controls, listening to the sound of the suit assembling and powering up. It was a strangely comforting sound, considering the last time he’d heard it had been when he’d been fighting against the suit, struggling to protect Bucky without killing Tony in the process.

But now Tony was putting on the suit to save Bucky. Not Steve’s Bucky, but one with a similar past. Did that mean Tony might be able to forgive his Bucky? Apparently Tony Two already had. Knowing that Tony Two was in a relationship with another Bucky had been a shock, but it gave Steve hope that his own Bucky and Tony might one day reconcile.

Distracted by his thoughts, Steve didn’t notice that they had come upon their target until Bucky spoke.

“Uh... is that the plane we’re looking for?”

In the distance was what appeared to be a seaplane in a rapidly spinning descent.

Steve heard the suit come stomping closer to look out the windshield, then the mechanically filtered voice said, “Shit. Yeah, that’s gotta be it.”

Tony Two came up and swore as well. “Fuck. Go.”

“I’ll bring him back to you,” Tony One promised.

Then he opened the hatch and was gone.

* * *

Tony approached the falling seaplane cautiously, not only because of its dangerous spin, but also because of his uncertainty about the condition and defenses of the people inside.

From outside the craft, his scan revealed three occupants, one pointing what might be a gun at another. That meant he should deal with the people inside had to happen immediately, before ensuring the safe descent of the craft.

Flying up beside the plane, he yanked open the door. The man in the pilot seat was cursing in a panicked tone. The gun and the eyes of the woman holding it shifted to Tony for a moment before snapping back to Barnes in the back seat. “You lied,” she growled. “And you did this on purpose!” Her finger started to depress the trigger.

Tony shot forward, pushing the gun up before the bullet could hit Barnes, then wrested it from her hand. “Yeah, no, can’t have that,” he said. “You ready to blow this pop stand, or whatever you old-timers say?” he asked Barnes.

“You gotta get the plane down safe first.”

“What? Uh, no, I’m getting you back to your boyfriend.”

Barnes shoved himself away from Tony. He didn’t have a lot of space--there was a large contraption on the seat beside him, likely the device that had killed Tony’s plane and that he’d apparently triggered to crash this one--but it would be hard for Tony to pull him out if he was going to fight it, even with just one working arm. “If they die in the crash, that’ll mean I killed them. Please, Tony.”

The spinning view out the windows was disorienting, but the HUD showed Tony there was no time to keep arguing. He handed the woman’s gun to Barnes and ordered, “Don’t get yourself killed.”

_Or your boyfriend will kill me._

* * *

“I’m gonna kill him. What the fuck is he doing?!”

Bucky shifted his eyes from Iron Man visible out the windshield, exiting the spinning seaplane alone and flying around to the other side, to Tony standing over him to his left, hand gripping the seat back tightly.

Suddenly a voice came over the radio. _“It’s not my fault your boyfriend has hero issues.”_

Tony did not look reassured by that, but Bucky noticed Steve’s lips quirk up.

The three watched as Iron Man fought to straighten and level out the plane, just in time for a high-speed but relatively smooth landing on the surface of the water. Then the suit flew inside the craft again, this time emerging with a passenger--one Bucky Barnes, apparently intact.

“Thank fuck.”

Bucky looked up in time to see Tony drop his face into his hands, swaying slightly on his feet. Bucky felt the phantom attempt of his nonexistent left arm to reach out to steady him. Instead, he stood and turned to offer the man the support of his right arm. “You okay?”

Tony leaned slightly into him, and Bucky was surprised by the warmth he felt at the man’s proximity. “I--”

At that moment, the whine of repulsors signaled Iron Man’s return to the quinjet, and Tony turned.

“Got a replacement for me already?”

It was strange to hear and see himself, approaching Tony with a cocky grin Bucky remembered from photographs but hadn’t felt in decades.

“Always good to have a spare around,” Tony’s voice was almost lighthearted, but with an undercurrent of residual worry. “Since I apparently never know when you might risk your life to save the fuckers who kidnapped you in the first place.”

Tony stopped in front of his Bucky, apparently checking him over for the slightest injury, lingering on the limp metal arm.

“I’m okay, doll,” the alternate Bucky whispered, wrapping his hand around the back of Tony’s head and pulling him forward to rest their foreheads together. In response, Tony whimpered, then wrapped his arms tightly around his boyfriend, resting his head against the other’s chest.

Bucky looked away from the private moment, and happened to catch eyes with the other Tony Stark--who had lifted his faceplate and wore a strange look on his face.

Well, since things were already awkward, maybe now was the best time to risk making it more so. Bucky took a deep breath and walked over to Stark.

The other man eyed him warily, but didn’t move away.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said.

Stark held intense eye contact with him for a moment, then looked to the side. “I know.”

“I know that’s not enough, that there’s nothing I can do to undo what I did, but--”

“It wasn’t you,” Stark interrupted, his face a complicated mix of emotions Bucky couldn’t quite decipher. “I know that, and I--I need to accept that. And I’m,” Stark gave a humorless laugh, “I’m sorry for trying to kill you.”

Bucky shook his head. “I think I woulda done the same in your shoes.”

Steve must have put the quinjet on autopilot, because he came to stand near Bucky. “As long as we’re making apologies... I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Tony.”

Stark’s eyes hardened a little. It was odd to think Stark was more upset with Steve than with Bucky, but he supposed the betrayal of a friend was a different kind of hurt. “Now that--that was all you.”

“I know.” Steve swallowed.

“Stop it with the kicked puppy eyes, Rogers,” Stark said. “It’s gonna take me some time to forgive you.”

“I don’t--I don’t expect you to--” Steve stuttered, but there was clearly a spark of hope in his eyes.

“Yeah, well,” Stark sighed, “I probably will. I’ll need to if I want you and the others to come back to the compound at some point.”

“What? Tony, we’re wanted--”

Stark waved a hand. “I’m working on that. For you, too, Stumpy.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at the nickname, not sure whether to be offended, amused, or touched.

Steve’s face had darkened, but not--or at least not entirely--at the name. “I’m still not signing the Accords.”

Stark tensed for a moment, then he appeared to force himself to relax. “I know. We’re working out new ones--ones _you_ will have to approve before _anyone_ signs, Steve, I promise, we’re going to do it right this time, we’re gonna be on the same team, okay?”

There was a desperate plea in Stark’s voice, Stark’s face, and Bucky thought it was almost as compelling as Steve’s aforementioned puppy eyes (albeit nowhere near as potent as Steve’s Disappointed Face).

It seemed to appease Steve, who gave his sad smile in return. “I’d like that, Tony.”

“And you know,” Stark added, surprising Bucky by giving him a conspiratorial look, “I think once we get your buddy here fitted out with a new arm, he’ll make a pretty good Avenger.”

Bucky felt his jaw drop. Being offered a chance at forgiveness for what he’d done was one thing, but now Stark was saying he’d be comfortable fighting alongside him? Glancing at Steve, Bucky saw his friend was feeling a similar shock.

When Bucky looked back at Stark, he saw the other man was watching their counterparts, still holding each other tightly on the other side of the jet. Stark looked back at Bucky and shrugged. “I just figure it’s worth giving you a chance.”

Bucky opened his mouth to say... something, he wasn’t sure what, but suddenly there was a strange woman with pale, frizzy hair standing beside them, yelling “Ha!”

Bucky immediately backed away from her. He noticed Stark and Steve do the same, though both of them moved to stand between her and Bucky. From the other side of the jet came an angry shout of “You!” but Bucky was focused on the sudden arrival.

“I knew it would work!” she shouted, her face and voice full of a manic glee.

“What would work?” Tony demanded, looking torn between wanting to face her head-on and not wanting to release his recently recovered boyfriend--who was similarly glaring at the woman.

“I knew you two could teach these pufflings to get along!”

“What?” the Bucky and Tony from the alternate universe shouted in unison, almost drowning out Steve’s questioning “Pufflings?”

“Let me get this straight,” Tony growled, “You ripped us from our reality, separated us, nearly got Bucky killed--to teach Asshole Me a lesson?”

“And the others,” she said matter-of-factly, as though oblivious to his tone, “Yes, and it worked! I’m amazing!”

At that, Tony started to pull away from his boyfriend, looking ready to fight what seemed to be a powerful multidimensional being with his bare hands.

Then someone else appeared--another woman in strange robes, though this woman seemed a little more put together, her dark hair pulled back in a tight braid. “You’re in an amazing amount of trouble, is what you are, Sister.”

The first woman’s voice became whiny. “I’m fixing things, Sister!”

“By breaking other things. This is why we’re not supposed to meddle in the affairs of this realm!”

“But I made it better!” She suddenly looked horrified. “You’re not going to undo it, are you?”

The second woman seemed to assess each of the occupants of the jet. Stark had his faceplate back in place and a gauntlet raised, ready to fire if provoked. Steve looked cautious but willing to see how things were going to play out. The other Bucky had pulled Tony back and was standing with his nonfunctional metal shoulder shielding his boyfriend.

Bucky stepped forward. “Don’t,” he said quietly.

The dark-haired woman looked at him and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“Don’t undo it. She shouldn’ta done this. But she--well, _they_ \--did help. Helped me, at least.” Bucky looked at the visitors from the other universe. “Course, I understand if you fellas would rather none of this had happened.”

The other Bucky and Tony looked at each other, and seemed to have a brief conversation without words.

Then Tony looked over at Stark. “As--Other me. Did this whole thing really help you get your shit together and decide not to be an ass to Bucky anymore?”

Stark raised his faceplate again to reveal his frowning face. “I was already planning to help him. But--yeah, having to deal with your Barnes--well, maybe I’m more willing to try working with this one because of him.” He sighed. “Even if his presence did cause some Hydra fuckers to crash my jet.”

“Speaking of which,” Steve put in, “We should probably go bring them in. They’re still down there, right?”

“Won’t be able to escape without power, not in the middle of the ocean,” the other Bucky put in.

“Though they won’t matter if all this gets reset, will they?” Stark asked, looking pointedly at the dark-haired lady.

Before she could speak, the other Bucky broke in quickly, “They’ll matter, but you won’t know--they had visuals transmitting from the Tower, that’s how they knew I was on board. They’d been hoping Steve would show up at the Tower and lead them to me--well, you,” he looked at Bucky. “If this all gets undone, they’ll still be after you.”

There was silence for a moment, as everyone looked at the woman who apparently had the power to determine their fate regardless of what they desired.

She sighed, giving a long-suffering glance to the other woman. “Very well, Sister, I shall leave things as they are.”

The light-haired woman gave a manic grin. “Yes!” she squealed.

“But I believe you owe these gentlemen transport back home,” the dark-haired woman said in a scolding tone.

“Oops. Yes, right.” She turned to them. “Ready to go?”

“This time you ask, huh?” the other Bucky remarked dryly.

“Yeah, you couldn’t have asked us before abducting us in the first place?” Tony looked at Steve and Bucky. “Give King T’Challa my thanks, and make sure he gets you the arm he promised.” Then he looked at Stark. “You, don’t be an ass to Bucky.”

Stark smirked. “No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.” But he gave Bucky a grin that seemed to welcome in him into the joke.

“So now what?” Tony asked, “We click our heels together three times?”

His boyfriend smiled and reached out to take his hand. “There’s no place like home.”

Then the woman waved her arms, and with a bright flash, the visitors were gone.

* * *

EPILOGUE

Tony stared at the wires inside the panel. They looked fine, but he ran his fingers along them just to be sure. Then he closed that panel and opened the next.

Another set of fingers came along and slid the panel shut. “Hey. You’ve checked everything three times already. I’m fine, and you know it.”

Tony swallowed. He kept his eyes on the metal arm, running his fingers down along the side, then back up.

On his next path down, the metal hand turned and clasped with his own, drawing Tony’s hand to Bucky’s lips. “Doll, I’m fine.”

Tony nodded, not quite able to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“You’re not, though. What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Bucky pulled gently to guide Tony to the workshop couch. Tony went along without protesting, letting his boyfriend pull him into his lap. Tony nestled into Bucky’s chest, comforted by the metal arm coming around his back to hold him close. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He wasn’t sure, but he found himself saying, “I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“Him? The other Tony?”

He nodded. “He tried to kill y--the other Bucky.”

“Considering what he’d just seen,” Bucky said quietly, “I don’t blame him.”

 _I do_ , Tony wanted to say, but the problem was--he wasn’t sure if he really could. “That’s the thing,” Tony admitted. It hurt to force out the next part, “Would I--if that’s how I had found out, what if I--would I have done the same?”

Bucky started rubbing calming circles on Tony’s back. “It doesn’t matter. You didn’t.”

“It does matter,” Tony insisted. “I can’t stop thinking about what could have happened. That I could have lost this--you--us--without ever knowing what we could have had.”

Bucky’s hold tightened. “I thought I had lost this,” he said, his voice a little choked up. “When I was there and I thought he was you and you hated me. I thought I’d never had this, would never again, that it was all a hallucination or implanted memories...”

Now it was Tony’s turn to soothe Bucky, nuzzling against his cheek while running a hand through his hair. “This is real. You have me. I have you. I love you, sweetheart.”

Bucky gave a breathy sigh, not quite a sob. “I love you, doll.” With his next breath, he seemed a little more composed. “I guess we just gotta be grateful that we do have this. And we can be glad we helped the poor fellas who don’t. And who knows, maybe in time they’ll see what they’re missing.”

* * *


End file.
